


Kitty Rose

by Alacri



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Burlesque, M/M, nonbinary pidge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alacri/pseuds/Alacri
Summary: Lance, everyone's favorite flirty pansexual photography major goes to a drag show event on his college campus and meets the love of his life. The only trouble is, Lance has no idea who the dancer is, or even his real name.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_small_cthulu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_small_cthulu/gifts).



 

 

 

**Squad Chat** **™**

6:47 pm

**Lancelot:** At a fucking drag show you lame hetero ass bitches

**Pidgeot lvl 420:** dont fuckin brag

**Lancelot:** ;)

Lance turned his phone off and stuffed it in his jean pocket, tugging the hem of his crop top down as he did so. He’d really thought the outfit was a good idea when he’d  _ left,  _ and sure Hunk had said it looked great on him, but he probably should’ve considered the concept a smidge more before actually going  _ out  _ in something like this. It was a mistake, he decided, approximately half an hour too late to do anything about it. A terrible, horrible, poorly-thought out mistake. It didn’t matter that this was a show where the majority of the performers would be in various states of “revealing,” his 

 

As he fought the rising sense of panic in his chest, Lance found himself blindly looking for a seat. The auditorium was only semi-crowded. Most of the people were unfamiliar (that’s what he got for staying in his dorm with Hunk most of the time) but he recognized a few people from the LGBT+ club he occasionally showed up at for snacks and to be flamboyantly not-straight somewhere other than his bedroom. Seeing people he sort-of knew helped. Kinda. Enough for him to stop his knees from shaking, which he totally hadn’t been doing up until that point, and enough to swallow down the sour taste in his throat. He could do this. He could handle a social outing without friends, all on his own. Curse everyone else for being busy.

 

Confidence somewhat renewed, he managed to find a seat close-ish to the front. It was a pretty decent seat, actually, close to the front where two groups had left a seat in between them in an unspoken agreement to not actually sit next to each other, room permitting. He’d take it- couldn’t get close enough to hot people, after all. 

 

As he settled into the cheapass metal folding chairs the college refused to spend more than three bucks on, Lance threw the flannel he’d brought over the back of the chair. He took a deep breath; he’d thought he’d be alright once he was sitting, he really did, but that familiar acid taste was rising up his esophagus again in a spectacularly uncomfortable way. He  _ hated  _ being alone in social situations.

 

The time between sitting down and when the drag show actually started seemed to stretch unpleasantly. Every time he checked his phone, the time displayed on the crack-ridden screen seemed to be the same. Every one of the ten minutes was agonizing. When the harsh indoor lighting finally dimmed, Lance sagged a bit, relieved. Now that the focus was onstage, imagined focus on him could fade a bit. It was a blessing for his anxiety.

 

The star performer stepped onstage, a drag queen guest from RuPaul’s Drag Race, wearing the most elegant purple dress Lance had ever seen in his life. The crowd hushed itself as she walked up to the mic, heels clicking with every step on the laminated hardwood floor. She smiled, lips painted to match her dress, and began.

 

“First off, I’d like to thank all of you for coming here tonight. I know how it is in today’s America, and I know tolerance is becoming harder to find. It means a lot that those of you who aren’t even a part of this community are here, and I can feel the love here tonight. No matter who you are, being here tonight is spreading love in the world.” She paused for a moment, fiddling with something on her dress, perhaps unlatching something. Violet cloth slid to the floor around her as she stepped delicately out of the pooled fabric. There was a glittery jumpsuit underneath: the same rich violet as the dress. She smiled again,beatific. “Enjoy the show.”

 

As the sixth performer walked onstage, Lance’s mouth went dry. He was a burlesque dancer, a young man with long, dark hair- probably a student, he looked young- all decked out in incredibly revealing burlesque. He had a tight, incredibly bright red corset on, heaven knew where he got one on a college student’s budget, and honest to god  _ garters _ . The sparkle-laden ensemble showed off his honestly fantastic thighs, emphasized his curving hips, and managed to leave he flat plane of his chest was bare, his corset ending just below it.  In the stagelights Lance could see two faint scars arced across the smooth skin. His eyeliner, winged and sharp, was killer in way Lance dreamed of recreating. The dancer strode up the stage, hips swinging temptingly, and Lance was so in love he barely heard the announcement introducing Kitty Rose to the stage.

 

The opening chords of the dancer’s song started to play, colorful violin joined by a heavy, driving bass beat for a few moments before the singer’s voice joined the mix, whispering words to the beat. Her voice started quiet, building tension as the song continued. In the back of his mind, Lance recognized the music as some kind of electro-swing, eyes wide and following the dancer as he marched along the front of the stage to the beat.

 

_ Hey brother what you thinking? Leave that old record spinning. You feel the rhythm going. They call it lonely digging.  _ The pace was quick, lyrics fast, but the dancer kept up with it remarkably well, lipsyncing perfectly to the opening lines.  _ There’s a good time to lay low, your knees a-bending so. It’s time to get up and let go. You’re gonna come undone. _

 

The dancer strutted to the center of the stage and crouched, one steadying hand on the floor, and as he rose excruciatingly slowly he gazed into the audience, briefly making what Lance chose to believe was eye contact. Lance thought he might spontaneously combust.  _ Hey mama how’s it going? Can’t see your body moving. Don’t leave the party dying.  _ The dancer snapped to attention, hips tilted teasingly and one leg extended towards the audience.  _ They call it lonely digging. _

 

Half an hour and a lot of sweat later, the show was over. Lance, who still felt like his lungs were devoid of air, managed to wobble his way towards where the performers were chatting and taking photographs with the audience. The burlesque dancer in red was there, quiet but still smiling politely and taking photographs. Lance waited for a moment when the dancer was free and slid up beside him, grinning.

 

“Hey, can I get a picture?” Lance thought the dancer seemed wary and uncomfortable for someone who had been dancing in an immensely suggestive way not an hour prior, but to be honest it looked pretty good on him. Honestly, any emotion would look good on Kitty Rose, but that was beside the point.

 

“Sure.” Lance grinned; opportunity was knocking. Kitty Rose scooted a bit closer and Lance threw an arm around the dancer, who flinched before relaxing into Lance’s casual grip. “What’s your name?” 

 

“It’s Lance.” Lance smiled in a way that he hoped wasn’t alarming as he spoke.

 

“Nice to meet you, Lance-”

 

“-but you can call me Anytime.” The moment those words were left his mouth, Lance regretted them. Kitty Rose’s expression was somewhere between disgust and secondhand horror, the exact opposite of what Lance had been going for. His attempted seductive grin slipped, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Somehow, despite his usual shameless flirting, Lance actually felt kinda bad this time. Ok Lance, time to fix what you just fucked up.

 

“Sorry,” He meant it too, and apologies weren’t easy to wrangle out of someone as stubborn as Lance. “Can I still get a picture?” Kitty Rose wiped the distress from his face remarkably quickly, substituting a cool, detached expression.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Lance beamed at the response, sidling up next to the dancer with a distinctly less flirtatious look. Kitty Rose, seeming very slightly more comfortable once Lance had dropped the flirting, wrapped an arm around him and smiled for the selfie. He had extraordinarily soft skin, Lance noticed, cheeks burning. Not even bothering to check the quality of the photo, Lance thanked the dancer, and dazedly made his way towards the exit.

 

**Squad Chat** **™**

9:49 pm.

**Lancelot:** Guys there was a burlesque dancer at the show named Kitty Rose and I got to take a picture with him after the show

**Lancelot:** He was so hot guys. So hot.

**Hunkalicious:** You say that about everyone though?

**Lancelot sent an image.**

**Pidgeot lvl 420:** holy shit dude

**Lancelot:** And if you’re wondering why it looks like I want to die this is exactly the dialogue in the five seconds leading up to the picture:

**Lancelot:** Me: “hey can I get a picture?”

    Him: “uh sure what’s your name?:

    Me: “it’s Lance”

    Him: “nice to meet you Lance-”

    Me: “but you can call me anytime”

**Hunkalicious:** You did not say that.

**Pidgeot lvl 420:** NO

**Lancelot:** And that’s how I said the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever said. I said it out loud. To his face.

**Pidgeot lvl 420:** rifp

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Hunkalicious:** Lance?

**Hunkalicious:** Dude where are you class starts today

**Hunkalicious:** Lance

**Hunkalicious:** Lance

**Hunkalicious:** Lance, dude, you’re gonna miss the syllabus

**Hunkalicious:** Dude

 

**Hunkalicious called Today at 8:05 am.**

 

**Hunkalicious:** You overslept again didn’t you.

 

**Hunkalicious called Today at 8:07 am.**

  
  


Three and a half hours after successfully turning his alarm off in his sleep, Lance finally woke up- by unceremoniously falling off his bed and falling onto the uncarpeted floor. Struggling to extract his lanky limbs from the bedsheets, he groped around for his phone. Apparently it had fallen- charging cord ripped out of the wall and strewn, much like his sheets, across the nasty, uncarpeted dorm floor. Fantastic.

 

Lance sighed, hoping against hope that he hadn’t broken it, and checked his phone. No new cracks but the wall of messages on his screen made Lance blink. Six texts and two calls from Hunk? Lance sat there on the floor, shoulder smarting from where he’d fallen and eyes bleary as he tried to process  _ why  _ exactly Hunk would’ve been trying to contact him at 8 am. He didn’t have class today- second semester classes didn’t start until Monday. True, he wasn’t the best at remembering times, or the date, or plans with friends, but he could at least know what day of the week it was, right? He checked his phone again. It was Monday.  Absolutely fantastic.

 

After taking another hour and a half for his skin care routine, Lance actually got dressed and ready to leave. Pidge was on campus today- they had the day off from high school and their first day of dual enrollment- and he didn’t want to mess up lunch too. One big mistake was enough for the day. 

 

When Lance finally made it outside Kaltenecker Residence Hall into the obscenely warm January air, Hunk was waiting for him, valiantly trying to look frustrated. It was an odd expression on him, and his efforts were both commendable and futile.

 

“Listen, I was trying to get you up, you kept missing Mr. Harris’s class last semester and he  _ hates  _ when we do that, I know he doesn’t take attendance- even though he probably should if he’s gonna be this way about people coming to class- but you can’t keep skipping! I get that your grades are usually fine and all but look you just missed the first day and what if you miss something important? Like a quiz! He’d never-” Lance made a shushing noise.

 

“I won’t oversleep again, I swear. Cross my heart and hope to die. Or step on a lego. Maybe both. Ok?”

 

Hunk was sighing before Lance was even halfway through his sentence.

 

“See, you  _ say  _ that, but-” This time Lance physically put his finger on Hunk’s mouth to stop him, voice sharp and staccato.

 

“Won’t. Happen. Again!” Lance was a lost cause. Hunk’s hope was gone. “Dude you  _ know  _ that Professor Montgomery won’t let you make up the-” Lance shushed him.

 

“It won’t happen again, ok? It’s not an issue. Promise. Where’s Pidge again?” Heaving another sigh at the change in topic, Hunk turned around.

 

“Pidge already got their meal. They’re waiting for us at a table, probably thrilled to make fun of you for what you did last night. If you’re going to distract me from the topic can we at  _ least  _ go get food now?” Lunch was serious business and he was hungry. Lance, for his part, was already halfway to the food stands. He was making a beeline for his favorite- a sushi truck that Hunk didn’t trust. If Lance wanted to eat possibly-contaminated raw fish though, that was on him. Hunk just wanted his damn hamburger.

 

Pidge, when they actually managed to find the table, was tapping away on their high school-issued laptop, Rover, their service dog, tucked neatly under the seat. Lance snuck a peek at the screen as he sat down, nose wrinkling in confusion.

 

“Are you… supposed to be doing that? Or supposed to even be allowed to do that?” Pidge snagged a fry from their meal box and shrugged, continuing what they were doing. The screen was half install wizards and half a big black box with green text that Lance personally thought was straight out of a ‘90s hacker movie. Scooting closer to Pidge on the bench, Lance peered over their shoulder again. Pidge smacked him away out of reflex, almost knocking his coffee over onto Rover as they did so.

 

“I got past my school laptop’s restrictions by figuring out the administrator password, so I’m installing video games. And Skype. But mostly video games.” Lance could apparently appreciate breaking the rules a lil bit, but Hunk could not. He gasped.

“ _ Pidge! _ ” Pidge peered over the laptop screen at him as he continued. “What if you get caught? What if you go to jail? What if the school expels you? What if-” Pidge interrupted him as he spoke, just like everyone else seemed to these days; at least they were gentler about it than Lance was.

 

“Hunk?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Arm.”

 

“Oh.” Hunk quit picking at the skin and scabs on his arm and took a deep breath, trying to let out the agitation. Pidge beamed at him understandingly before continuing.

 

“Don’t worry it’s fine. They have a couple thousand laptops to monitor in the entire high school, and no one really cares about one junior messing around on one. I’ll wipe it when I’m done, promise. I just want to play Skyrim in class, ok? I think I deserve that for putting up with high school IEP bullshit.” Lance gasped and dramatically placed a hand on his forehead at the last word.

 

“Bullshit? Pidge you can’t  _ curse _ , you’re an infant!” Pidge rolled their eyes so hard it looked like their life depended on it.

 

“I’m seventeen, Lance.”

 

“Still!” Lance took an equally dramatic sip of his cappuccino and finally slid down the table bench and away from the laptop. As he finally popped his lunch open he continued. “You’re like, an actual baby. No cussing in this house.”

 

“This is a table.” Pidge helpfully pointed out. “Outside, on public property.” Lance stuffed a piece of his eel in his mouth, swallowed, and kept going.

 

“No! Cussing! In! This! House!” He shoved another eel roll piece in his mouth and Pidge rolled their eyes even harder, taking a bite of their italian hoagie as they did so.

 

“Let Hunk be the momfriend, he’s better at it.” Hunk puffed up a little bit at their words, clearly proud of himself. Lance shrugged, made a noncommittal noise, and ate another piece of eel. 

 

“Suit yourself, but Hunk has a bedtime.” Pidge looked aghast.

  
“ _ What? _ ” 

 

By the time Pidge had finished setting up all six of their video games to install and actually started eating in earnest, both Hunk and Lance had finished their respective meals and Lance had managed to whine his way through every single complaint he’d had during the past week. This included such highlights as: “I hate the year 2007, it was a materialistic nightmare” and “I can’t believe there are people taller than me.” He had draped himself facedown across the table, nose pressed flat to the splintery wood, and was staying that way while Pidge finished their fries.   
  
“Are you done complaining yet? What else could you possibly have to say?”  Hunk sighed in a fondly exasperated sort of way as Lance shook his head. “Don’t answer that.” Lance, still flat against the wooden slats of the table, said something muffled and indistinguishable while Pidge snickered.

 

“Oh yeah Lance, so how’d everything go last night? You know, at the show.” Although they couldn’t watch Lance’s face, Pidge could see the tips of his ears flush red. Pidge stifled a laugh. “Seemed like it went pretty well, right?” Lance groaned and sat up a bit.

 

“Pidge, I embarrassed myself in front of the most beautiful person I’ve ever looked at in my life. I could barely talk he was so pretty. Plus I’ll probably never even see him again! The love of my life, gone.” He heaved a theatrical sigh, sliding forward on the table.

 

“Lance, you don’t even know the guy’s name. He’s not the love of your life, you don’t even know if he goes to school here!” Hunk sighed for the umpteenth time, rubbing his forehead. “From what you babbled last night about his dancing when you got back to the room, he sounds like a professional. He probably has shows other places too.” Pidge snorted as Lance made a whining noise in the back of his throat and slumped fully forward against the table.

 

“Hunk, buddy, let me dream. Please.”

 

“Well,” Pidge spoke up and Hunk looked exceedingly grateful to Pidge for interrupting whatever Lance was going to say next. “Lance- buddy, pal- I appreciate that you’re thirsty as hell and I’m totally down for you to run around lusting after people like a lovesick puppy, but I have class now so you’re gonna have to text me about it, aight?” Lance groaned against the table, and Hunk patted his back sympathetically. Pidge finished shoving all of their tech into their backpack and have Hunky a pitying look. “Talk after class!”

 

“See you!” Hunk called from where he was consoling a forlorn Lance McClain. Lance, still face-first on the table, raised one hand in a halfhearted gesture of farewell, waving vaguely in Pidge’s direction as they made their way off towards one of the lecture hall buildings, Rover close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO FINALLY GOT AROUND TO WRITING AGAIN! It's me.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I know I had another work posted and it was also a college AU but I promise this is gonna be way better and the first chapter of the other AU has been rewritten to support this fic! Thanks to my good pals who I based this on, [Lionsdale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionsdale) as Lance, my friend Laura as Hunk, and myself as Pidge! There are a couple of other characters influenced by my friends but that comes up later.
> 
> Yes I did give Pidge a service animal! I'm working towards training my own service dog so I decided it's only fair for Pidge to have one too. The dog's name is Rover and he's an Australian Shepherd. He helps Pidge with their chronic illness, as well as with psychiatric stuff. I'll elaborate later!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! The next chapter should be up within a few days.


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